But A Shell
by Disenchantment
Summary: Character Death: Greg talk to a friend, not knowing whether or not they can hear him. GrissSara. Chapter 2: Grissom is now up.
1. Greg

AN: I don't own any of the characters, so please don't sue. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! The story format is based off the epilogue from the book, "My Sister's Keeper" by Jodi Picoult.

* * *

There should be a limitation on grief. Some set of rules that states that it's alright to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 47 days I shouldn't hear your footsteps echoing through the halls or feel my heart pounding when I think you called my name; that after two months it's okay to laugh again.

When you died, our world stopped; time stood still for what seemed like hours, moving in slow motion on the ambulance ride to the hospital. I don't think you realized that it was me that held you hand until Grissom came, that I held you as you slipped the bonds of earth to live eternally with the sun and moon.

I had never been that close to someone dying before and everyday I ask myself why it had to be you, why I was allowed to live with only scratches but your life had to end. There were so many things that we didn't get a chance to say and I only hope that you've been watching us so that you'll finally understand how much we love you.

I stood there, staring at the tube down your throat, watching a machine breathe for you when the other's arrived. I remember the sound the door made when Warrick burst through, the sound of the doorknob slamming into the flimsy drywall, followed quickly by Nick and Catherine; Grissom wasn't at his office and an officer was sent to find him. Their silent questions were asked through their tear filled eyes and I responded simply, "Drunk driver…" I didn't have the heart to tell them that you couldn't breathe on your own, that your heart had stopped beating before we arrived at the ER, or that you had already found your place in Heaven.

Grissom came silently into the room, his face emotionless and drained of color. I had never seen anyone break down like Gris did when he saw you, lying thin and fragile in the stiff white sheets of your hospital bed. Seeing him kneel beside you, taking your hand in his was the final thing that broke our strong composure. His body wracking with sobs that I've only seen when a husband looses his wife, brought on a new wave of nausea that I had been fighting to suppress.

I couldn't watch as Grissom told you over and over how sorry he was, how much he loved you, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, how it was too late. One by one we whispered our deepest secrets and feelings into the shell that was lying before us, hoping and praying that you could hear us pleading for you to come back. I wish I could have saved you, I wish it was my body lying there instead of yours…

We all knew the choice we had to make; it was up to us to turn off your machines. You had listed us as your family, six people unrelated by blood but related by spirit. We watched your chest rise and fall rhythmically to the beeping of the machine next to your bed post. Grissom had put his hand on your chest and closed his eyes, waiting for the machine to be silenced. Catherine finally summoned enough courage to walk over to the respirator and place her hand on the switch. She said in a whisper, that only I think heard, "I never hated you." She flipped the switch and stood there, for the first time fully comprehending what had just happened. When the monitor flat lined we heard a sob from Grissom as he felt your heart stop beating.

It's been three months to the day since you left us. Your funeral was the most emotional thing that I have been through, besides loosing you. Even in death you looked like an angel gracing us mortals with your divine presence. We were granted that night off by Ecklie, (who cried at your service even though he would never admit to it) after he told us that he had assigned us back to our original night-shift team, except that you were missing.

I wonder if you look after us and make sure that we're okay. If you know that Catherine and Warrick started dating, if only as a way to stay strong. If you saw Grissom, how the light went out of his eyes and how he spent more and more time locked up in his office. I wonder if you know that the lab isn't the same without your smile or your laugh. If you realize that everyday we think about you and wish things had turned out differently. If you watch me sleep at night and know that the tears I cry are because I miss you.

I wonder if Griss is up there with you, finally being able to hold you in his arms and tell you that he loves you. The doctors say he died of a heart attack, but we know it was because of a broken heart.

On a roll of film I developed last week I found a picture of you and Grissom taken at this year's department Christmas party. I've studied that picture so many times that the sides are beginning to wear out and there are creases on the corners, only after 7 days. I've memorized the way your hair falls off your shoulders, the way the light reflects off your eyes, Grissom's genuine smile, and the way your fingers are effortlessly intertwined.

I hope that you save a place for me up in Heaven, for all of us.

* * *

P.s. Why is it that Sara dies in the majority of stories that kill a C.S.I. character? shrugs 


	2. Grissom

AN: I know that it's been over a year since I've updated, but due to recent events my muse has decided to come back to me.

As always, I don't own CSI or any of the characters. I wish I did.

There should be a limitation on grief. Some set of rules that state that it's alright to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 47 days I shouldn't hear your footsteps echoing through the halls or feel my heart pounding when I think you called my name; that after two months it's okay to laugh again.

My world disappeared when I walked in to your hospital room. Everything that I thought was worth living for vanished when I realized that you wouldn't be there, beside me, holding my hand.

You looked like one of my butterflies, restrained by the machines to the white sheets of the bed, unable to fly away. Butterflies are meant to soar to the heavens, not be pinned down for observation and cataloguing. It struck me that for all these years, that is what I did to you. I was so afraid of what would happen if I released you to the world that I built up glass walls and watched you from afar. I took note of what made you happy, what tore you down, what made you shine brighter than the moon. I struggled to find the courage to take you out and savor your beauty, but I was afraid that you would leave. For what beauty would stay with a man like me? I should have let you go free, I should have been less selfish; I should have been content to see you fly.

I didn't notice that I was being watched when I took your hand at the side of your bed. Everything dissolved and only you and I were left in that sterile hospital room. I cried. I cried like I have never done before. I never thought that it would hurt this much to lose something that wasn't even yours.

"I love you. I love you Sara. I'm sorry. Please Sara, don't leave me. Sara, come back. Please. Stay with me, forever. I love you. Please…" I don't know how long I confessed my secrets and fears to you but as long as I had breath I wanted you to know what you meant to me. Between sobs I gently kissed your hand, your delicate fingers, your palm.

I cried because I knew it was too late. It took death to finally wake me up out of my fifty-year slumber and realize that I had a chance. Catherine's reassuring hand on my shoulder brought me out of my fragile world and in to a world that I no longer cared about. A slight nod told me everything I needed to know; it was time to set you free. The tears stopped falling long enough for me to look at you one last time, "I love you Sara, forever." My universe was just you and I, and in that moment I brought my lips to yours and kissed you for the first, last, and only time.

Sara… I wish I could have told you so many things. You took my heart when I first saw you at that conference. You had my love from the moment you came to Vegas. Anything you would have wanted was yours Sara, all you had to do was ask. I was so scared that you would leave me, but now the thought of living without you is more than I can bear.

I rested my head on your chest and listened for the beating of your heart. Tears threatened to fall as I realized that this would be the last time I would feel your chest rise and fall, the last time I would hear your heart. I waited. I waited for Catherine to turn the machine off.

One last rise, one last fall, one last beat. You had flown away to the stars, like a butterfly set free.


	3. Sara

AN: I wasn't planning on writing a second chapter to this, but inspiration came one night as I was lying in bed. Again, I don't own anything- but a girl can dream.

* * *

There should be a limitation on grief. Some set of rules that states that it's alright to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 47 days I shouldn't hear your footsteps echoing through the halls of my dreams or feel my heart pounding when I think you called my name; that after two months it's okay to laugh again.

I sit next to you, watching you dream, watching your eyelids flutter like the butterflies you always compare me too; I know those dreams are of me. I wish I could reach out and wipe away the tears silently falling down your cheeks; hold you and cry with you. I've never seen this room before; the walls are covered with the most beautiful specimen of butterflies I've ever seen. When the moonlight reflects off their iridescent wings I can't help but think of you, the way the moonlight echo's off your sleeping form.

I wonder if Catherine knows that I don't hate her, that I respect her and admire her more than any other woman I know. I wonder if she knows that I'm Lindsey's guardian angel and that Eddie is hers. That one day everything will be okay and the pieces of her life will fall in place. I wonder if she realizes that there's a miracle growing within her, that it'll have Warrick's eyes and her smile. I wish she knew that her first kiss with Warrick brought a smile to my face and fifty dollars in Nick's pocket.

I wonder if Greg knows that I play practical jokes on him, moving around test tubes until he gives up cursing; when he turns his back to me I replace them. Recently he has begun to catch on saying, "Give them back Sar." He puts on the best façade out of all of them, keeping up his playful self while on the inside letting his spirit die. I wonder if he knows that I watch his dreams. It's the only chance that I can comfort him; reassure him that everything will be okay. I hold him and let him cry onto my shoulders, whispering into my hair, "Don't leave me. Please. Please Sara, take me with you." Some days I wish I could take him with me, but he has so much to live for- so much living that it wouldn't be fair. He doesn't know that every time he looks into Mia's eyes, he's looking into the soul of his wife, his children's eyes reflecting back.

Sometime I wish this was just a bad dream, I would wake up and I would be alive. I would have a second chance to hold you, to hear your voice say my name, to kiss you. I wonder if you know I'm here, laying next to you, listening to your breath, your slow heartbeat. I whisper your name so softly, so gentle. Like the wings of a butterfly I brush my fingertips against your lips, across your cheek, your eyelashes. I hear your breath escape like a sigh and I know that it's over.


	4. Reflection

AN: Same as the previous chapters.

Your eyes slowly open, blinking twice to clear the fog of morning. You look into my eyes and reach out a shaky hand to touch my face. I've forgotten how soft your touch is and I close my eyes for a moment, if not to stop the tears but to savor the feeling. When I open my eyes, tears are slowly trailing down your moonlit face. I brush them slowly away and whisper, "None of that." It sounds as if you suppress a sob as my hands move across your face, down to your lips.

I hold you, this time for real, at least as real as it can be. I can still feel your back rise and fall with each time you try to catch your breath. I wish you knew how I felt at that moment, bittersweet with the thought of the others, yet blissful that you are with me. I hear you whisper into my mind, "I'm with an angel." I whisper back, "You always will be."

I wonder if they know that we watch them, make sure they're okay. The breeze through a room- that blows open a case file and rustles pages- is only Grissom going through, making sure you haven't missed a detail for a case. That the sudden shiver you have is one of us looking over you're shoulder. Grissom is watching over Greg now, the way I watch over Lindsey. It's nice to know that you haven't forgotten us, even though it's been months. When you talk to us, in those long and lonely hours in the early light of dawn, when you feel alone in the lab even though you're surrounded by people who love you, when you pray and cry for us in the mid-afternoon sunshine, we listen… we always listen.

It's hard for us to sit and watch when you make mistakes. We know that it's going to be okay in the end and we try to leave you little clues to make things better. It's for the best, the mistakes you make, you learn through them no matter how hard it is to see beyond the present.

One day you'll wake up and your thoughts won't be of us; you'll go entire day without silently crying in the break room; you'll learn to laugh and enjoy life again. Don't feel guiltily about the joy you feel when you look into each other's eyes and draw the hope and strength to carry on. It's in those moments, when your soul is shining so bright that it lights the heavens, that we smile too.


End file.
